The Incredible Journey of Pete McGee (4 page)

The next Teller was a woman. Well, a girl really, for she couldn't have been over eighteen years of age. Her clothes were dirty and brown, rags hanging loosely over her thin frame. Pete wondered what she could possibly have been through to get in such a state, so he edged to the front of the stage to hear every word. In a small voice, the girl began to speak.

‘My name is Ashlyn and this is my story,

A story of our King and his grab for glory.

My love was stolen from out of my grasp,

And my mortal breath gave its very last gasp.

Just one week from now the King will go,

On a journey about which this I know.

He will search for a flower that cures all ills,

Better than medicine, better than pills.

Its pollen does this, while its magical smell,

Will grant to its sniffer one wish as well.

But if a thorn touches your blood, it's enough,

To kill you dead, your life it will snuff.

My life is forsaken,

My love has been taken,

By the evil man that we call King,

Marloynne's life he'll be sacrificing.

The King is foul, and cruel, and mean,

And will do anything for the flower Wilderene.'

The crowd was silent. Although deeply touched by Ashlyn's tale, no-one dared clap. Pete wanted to, but the sound of one hand clapping isn't exactly thunderous applause. Ashlyn stood on the stage, staring at the crowd as if pleading with them for some sort of response. When none was forthcoming she dropped to her knees, her eyes filling with tears. It was too much for Pete, as nothing seemed to compare to the pain this girl was experiencing. He threw his pack up onto the stage then climbed up after it and helped Ashlyn stand. She rose meekly, gratitude showing in her sad eyes. Suddenly there was a gasp from the crowd. Striding onto the stage were three of the King's guards. Ashlyn's heart dropped. She had committed treason, which carried a sentence of death. But she had not counted on the courage of young Pete McGee, who gently pushed her behind him and faced the guards. He willed his voice to be strong.

‘Guards! Stay where you stand and let this fair maiden go, lest you feel the wrath of Sir Pete McGee!'

The guards stared for a second before throwing their heads back and bursting into laughter. The crowd joined in, partly because they thought they should, to appear on the guards' side, but mainly because the sight of the small, one-armed boy facing up to three hulking guards was so ludicrous. People from the crowd started calling things out. Some were cleverer than others.

‘Don't worry about him, he's 'armless!'

‘He's given her a real shot in the arm!'

‘Hey look, that kid only has one arm!'

‘By the beard of Merlin, that mule is eating a cabbage!'

Pete ignored them and stood tall, although his heart was beating wildly. He saw Larson Smithers standing in the front row, grinning from ear to ear. It was obvious he expected something bad to happen and couldn't wait to see it. Pete had never really worked out why Larson bullied him so, but there were more important things to worry about at this point in time. He turned back to the guards. As scared as he was, this was something he had to do, not just for the girl but for himself.

‘Laugh away, wretched ones,' he continued. ‘You will laugh to your graves if you do not respect me.'

This just led to more hysterical laughter, and more jibes from the crowd. Finally one of the guards calmed down enough to speak.

‘Well, little one, you with that treasonous wench behind you, what is it that you think you will do to us?'

Before Pete could answer, he felt a presence at his shoulder. He spun around and his eyes grew wide. At his side, looking down at him, was a knight. Dressed in chain mail, helmet in one hand, head held high, he was the proudest, strongest, most confident-looking man the young boy had ever seen. His face looked as though it was carved from rock. Not some dodgy chalky rock either, but a really hard, smooth one. Pete felt himself stand taller just being near the knight, who smiled and spoke in a low, calm voice.

‘Thou art brave, young sir. Now though, ‘tis time for me to lower these vermin a peg or two. Thy service is noted, but this battle is for me.'

Without a word of protest, Pete McGee and Ashlyn edged slowly to the side of the stage. They were out of harm's way but with a perfect view of what was about to take place. They saw the guards glance at each other. The tallest, meanest-looking one spoke first, his voice deep and throaty.

‘Stand aside knight. The girl has committed treason. She comes with us to face the King.'

The knight's smile broadened.

‘Is that so? And the boy?'

‘He has allied himself with the girl, and in doing so he stands against our King. If you side with them, you too shall be sentenced.'

The knight stopped smiling as he nodded in response. His handsome face turned cold and hard, devoid of emotion. His eyes never left the guards as he drew his mighty broadsword. The guards, moving much less surely, also drew their weapons. The smile returned to the knight's face. It was a smile of absolute confidence. There was no warmth, merely a cool challenge.

The guards advanced. They outnumbered the knight three to one, but not knowing what he was capable of made them wary. Pete and Ashlyn watched anxiously, certain that one man could not defeat three highly trained guards.

Slowly the three circled, closing in on the knight. None of the combatants seemed prepared to make the first attack. Suddenly there was a blur of movement and one of the guards froze. Without moving his head he lowered his gaze to his neck, where the knight's sword was just touching the skin. The knight glanced downwards and saw a little yellow trickle of water dribbling from the bottom of the guard's armour. Pressing the sword a little harder, the first drop of blood appeared. Pete looked over at the crowd and saw Larson Smither's jaw had dropped, his mouth hanging open.

The other two guards backed off a pace. Surely such speed and control couldn't be human. The knight just stared at them. He knew that behind all the bluster and bullying the guards were little boys in armour, on a power trip but scared beyond their wildest dreams. He removed his sword from the guard's throat, before lunging theatrically at the other two, yelling as he did.

‘AAGGHH!'

The guards gave a high-pitched scream and ran off the stage. The knight returned to the first guard, who hadn't moved since the sword had touched him, told him to go and tell the King what had happened, and not to leave out
any
details. The guard nodded and stumbled off the stage, trying to cross his legs as he walked. The knight watched him go and then returned to Pete and Ashlyn.

‘Go now, young ones. You have much to tell your mother, Sir Pete McGee.'

He turned into the crowd and was gone. Ashlyn picked up Pete's pack. Pete, his eyes wide and unblinking, took Ashlyn's other hand, pulled a quick face at Larson Smithers, and ran off the stage.

low down, slow down!' Ashlyn had to pull Pete to a halt, his adrenaline surging. He slowed to a walk as they reached an overgrown paddock, then took a quick look over his shoulder to make sure that they were safe. As he slowed the adrenaline subsided, and Pete realised how far he had run. He fell to the ground, sinking into the long grass. Ashlyn lay down beside him, and in an instant they had disappeared from view. Ashlyn glanced at her rescuer and then spoke.

‘Why did you help me?'

Pete paused before answering, staring up at the clouds, wanting to choose the right words.

‘Partly because you were a damsel in distress, and it was my duty to help you; I am a knight, and a knight stands for all that is good and true. But I also helped you because I wanted to find out more about the flower. My mum's sick. That flower would be awesome! It would fix her for sure.'

Ashlyn smiled at the way Pete tried to act all grown up but couldn't keep it up when he got excited.

‘And what was it that the knight called you?'

Pete stood to his full height, which was barely above the top of the grass, and bowed low.

‘Sir Pete McGee at your service, m'lady. Although I have no idea how he knew my name.'

‘Your reputation as a brave and selfless knight must precede you, Sir Pete. For now, I feel we should move on. Those guards may still be searching for us.'

Pete thought for a bit, then his eyes lit up.

‘We can go home to my mum. They won't get us there; no-one ever goes to our house. Mum would love to meet you, and I have some amazing stories to tell her today.'

Ashlyn stood up, a full head taller than Pete.

‘Then lead the way, good Sir, to your mother's castle.'

Pete went to correct Ashlyn, to say that it wasn't a castle, but when he saw her smiling at him he realised that she was just building it up. He laughed with her and started walking in the direction of his house. Pete couldn't believe what had happened to him. His mum would be blown away when he told her about what he had done on the Main Stage. And there was that mystery knight. And the Wilderene Flower. Pete knew that if he could get the flower it would cure his mum. He had to get it, no matter what, even if he had to go with the King. The thought of that sent shivers down his spine, as he pictured himself begging King Cyril the Smug to take him with them. He shook his head clear and decided begging was out. For now. But how else could he get the flower?

Mrs McGee knew her son had arrived home. The sound of the front door shrieking on its hinges was a pretty good clue.

‘MUUUUUUUUUUUUUUMMM MMMMM!'

Yep, that would be another clue.

Pete raced into his mother's room, breathless and panting. He stopped and leaned over, his hand pressed into his waist. After catching his breath he breathed in deep, and said …

‘Mumyou'llneverguesswhathappenedtheKingdidn'tknowwhathewassayinganditwassofunnyandthenthisgirlAshlynspokeaboutthisflowerthatcansaveyouMumandshe'shereMumshe'shere!'

Pete paused, while his mother just stared at him blankly. He breathed deep and continued.

‘IsavedherwellatfirstIsavedherandthenthisknightcameAREALKNIGHTandheknewmynameandhetookonthreeguardsandbeatthemall!'

Mrs McGee smiled at her son. She loved it when he got to act like a boy instead of the grown up of the house. But that didn't mean she had understood a word of the gabble that had just come out of Pete's mouth.

‘Pardon?' was all she could say.

Pete rolled his eyes and groaned.

‘I said, Mumyou'llneverguesswhathap …'

Pete stopped short as he saw his mum's eyes move off him and towards the door. He frowned and was about to tell her to concentrate when he saw Ashlyn out of the corner of his eye, standing nervously in the doorway. He started to jump up and down again.

‘Mum, Mum, this is Ashlyn. You know, the one I told you about.'

Mrs McGee motioned for Ashlyn to join them.

‘Hello, Ashlyn. I'm very pleased to meet you. Pete has told me so much about you so quickly I have no idea who you are at all. The boy's on super fast forward.'

‘MUM!'

Ashlyn walked in and sat on the side of the bed.

‘Hello Mrs McGee. Your son was so brave today. He came to my aid like a true knight.'

Pete blushed and smiled shyly, suddenly fascinated with a nail in the floorboards. He glanced up to see his mum beaming at him with pride.

‘I knew you had it in you, Sir Pete. Now, what were you babbling on about? A flower or something?'

Pete and Ashlyn turned and stared at each other.

‘The Wilderene Flower,' they both shouted as they leapt up and began dancing around the room, Pete making up a song as he danced.

‘Wilderene, Wilderene, gotta get that Wilderene, because it's the bestest flower I've never seen.'

Mrs McGee burst into laughter at the sight of the girl dressed in rags and the one-armed boy dancing round the room like a couple of whacky monkeys. Suddenly Ashlyn stopped dancing. She stared at Pete, who was still leaping around, and sat back down on the bed.